47
THEA
I shift uncomfortably on the bar stool. I don’t want to be here. It’s crowded and noisy. People are bumping into my back and Cassie has to yell at me so that I can hear what she says.
However, the real issue is that this isn’t the first time I’ve been to this bar.
Five months ago, I came here. It’d been a mistake. Nothing bad happened. Not like the last bar I went to two months ago. Images of the man pushing into the bathroom pummel me. I feel nauseous at the memory.
But I’d been reckless. That’s why I started going to the bars in other towns instead—every Thursday night, like clockwork. My little secret.
I knew after coming here the first time that it was too close to home to do what I was doing—tricking men for a little confidence boost. I might see them after—run into them at the grocery store, spot them walking around town, or worse, they could come into the studio.
Then, I’d have to face them and the consequences.
It’s been months since I’ve been here and I’ve never seen the guy again, at least not that I could recognize. The faces all start to blur together, so trying to pull a clear image of his face is hard. Still, being here unnerves me. And Cassie’s none the wiser as she downs her second margarita. I’ve barely taken two sips from mine.
“Angels and Heathens,” she yells over the music. “No…Sinners and Saints.” She’s throwing out name ideas for the event, yet nothing’s sticking.
I’m too distracted scanning the crowd. He won’t be here. It was a Thursday night. He probably wouldn’t come out on a Saturday too. I try to reason with myself. I even try convincing myself that he was from out of town.
“Dolls or Devils.” The suggestions are getting worse as the alcohol clouds her brain.
“We’ll figure something out,” I yell back to her.
“Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?” A deep whisper from a stranger makes me sit straighter. His mouth is right next to my ear.
I swallow. “I’m good, thanks. Still working on this one.” I keep my eyes trained on Cassie. I know this isn’t the same guy. The odds would be slim.
Despite that, I can’t help the panic that rises. I desperately try to recall the man from five months ago. Brown hair? Beard? Tall? None of it feels right.
“Aw, c’mon. At least take a shot with us.” Us? Cassie hasn’t registered what’s going on. She’s too busy finishing her drink and licking the sugar off the rim.
The man comes around to my front, trailing his fingers across my back. I shiver in disgust. Another man comes to stand by his side. I don’t recognize either of them and feel relieved at that.
“We’re not doing shots tonight, but thank you. Maybe another time,” I shout over the music.
The friend ogles Cassie. “What’s up with her? Are you the fun one?” She recoils at his words and flashes her ring. “Not interested, buddy.”
“Listen, we’re nice guys. We just want to have a good time. I’m Rob and this is Matt,” he introduces, pointing to his friend.
I roll my eyes at the nice guy comment, always the dicks that try to use that line. “I’m not sure how many more ways we can say no. We aren’t interested.”
I watch as Rob’s face twists in anger. “So you can fuck four guys and flaunt it all around town, but a couple more is too much?”
The words roll through me, leaving a trail of rage and embarrassment in their wake. My eyes dart around, checking to see if anyone else is monitoring this situation. Everyone is unaware.
I size Rob and Matt up. Rob is tall and looks like he works out. He balls his fists at his side. Matt is shorter and doesn’t appear muscular at all. He seems slightly annoyed, definitely not as angry as Rob.
“Who I fuck is none of your business. I would recommend finding someone else to charm tonight.” Worst case, I can call Damian. He’ll take care of these assholes. However, it seems like my point finally gets across as they turn to leave.
I turn back around in my seat, but as soon as I do I feel something tighten around my arm. My head whips around and I see Rob again. He’s squeezing hard and is about to say something when a spray of water hits him in the face.
“Back the fuck off, asshole,” the woman behind the bar barks out. The sprayer is in one and in the other is a flashing light that she’s holding straight up.
Almost instantly, a massive man in all black saunters up to Rob and Matt. Without a word, he takes each one by the arm and leads them towards the exit.
“Thank you!” I yell out to the bartender. She nods with a tight smile and continues her work.
I glance back at Cassie, who has a fresh drink in front of her. I’m going to be carrying her out of here. “You’d think guys would learn how to take rejection with an ounce of class,” I comment, then take a sip of my drink. My head protests it and I push the glass away.
“Hey, you could prolly handle a couple more guys,” she slurs. The words should sting, although she’s drunk off her ass and I know she doesn’t mean it.
“Okay, that’s enough for you. I’m calling Anthony.” I pull out my phone and text him to come get her.
I pay the bartender and tip her generously for her help. It doesn’t take Anthony long to come through the door and spot us. Draping her arms around our shoulders, we walk her out to his car.
“Where are you parked? I’ll give you a ride,” He insists.
I shake my head. “I’m parked at the studio. It’s the opposite way. I’ll walk.” The look he gives me says that won’t fly. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It’s still early, and I didn’t drink. The bad guys don’t come out for a few more hours.”
He’s about to protest when Cassie leans out of the car and throws up, just missing Anthony’s shoes. “Listen, straight to your truck. Text me when you get home.”
I promise to follow those rules and watch them drive off. All I want is to crawl in bed and sleep the last of this headache away.
The air is hot and sticky, still thick from summer. I’m eager for chilly nights.
My footsteps are the only sound in the quiet of the night. The bar noises faded a while back and most of the businesses along Main Street are closed for the evening. Not too much farther. I’m passing the bakery and I see my truck parked at the studio in the distance.
Then, the sounds of my steps begin to echo. I falter. Turning to look behind me, I see two figures walking side by side. They’re a few hundred feet back and hidden in the shadows of the night. My gut aches with knowing. Still, I don’t want to believe it. I refuse to accept that it’s Rob and Matt behind me. If I do, then I also have to accept that nothing good is going to come from them catching up to me.
I need to cross the street to get to the studio on the other side. My intuition could be wrong. I’ll know once I deviate from the sidewalk. There’s no reason for them to trail me.
I inconspicuously peek over my shoulder as I step off the curb, but the distraction has my ankle rolling. A sharp pain shoots through my foot and up my leg. Fuck.
My injury draws my attention away from them, although not before I see them adjust their path to follow me.
That’s when I know that my gut is right. My hand dives into my satchel, finding my phone easily. I need to call the guys. I limp on, trying to make the call and speed up at the same time. It’s useless. Rob and Matt’s footsteps quicken as they jog towards me.
The closer they get, the harder my heart pounds until my pulse consumes my ears. The names on my phone blur as my eyes prick with tears, knowing there isn’t a scenario where this ends well for me. I can still feel the remnants of Rob’s tight grip on me. He was entirely too comfortable grabbing me like that with a bunch of people around. What would he do alone?
I slip my phone back into the satchel. Calling will take too much time. I’m so close to the studio, my safety. Pushing past the pain in my foot, I speed up a little more. Just as I do, I’m yanked back by my arms. Rob and Matt are on either side of me, each looping an arm through mine—acting as if they are being helpful. To anyone watching from a distance, that’s exactly what it’d look like.
“Get the hell away from me,” I yell out, trying to pull out of their grip. It only makes them hold me tighter. “I told you I’m not interested.” Being nice didn’t work earlier and I have no patience for it now with my ankle throbbing with each step.
Fear races through me and again I try to yank my arms free. The men veer sharply, steering me away from the studio and back across the street from where we came.
“Listen, the more you fight this, the more it will hurt.” Rob stares down at me, giving me a winning smile as he drags me towards an alley between two buildings.
I can hardly breathe, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. There are very few reasons a man would forcefully pull a woman into a place like that—best case, he’s going to rape me…worst case, I won’t make it out alive.
The realization has my body shaking and my vision goes blurry.
Searching my brain for any scrap of knowledge of how to escape an attacker, I come up empty. I can’t think around the panic. There’s something I should say. There’s a special move to catch them off-guard. I know that there’s something deep in my memory that I should be able to use. Nothing materializes.
I do the only thing I can think of—I try snatching my arms away again, but Rob’s fingers dig into me. “Why are you doing this?” I grate.
Maybe I can distract him.
They pull me into the alley, down far enough that the shadows swallow us where no one can see that I need help.
Matt lets out a laugh. “You were right. She doesn’t remember.” My brows pinch together. No.
“She’ll remember me after tonight,” Rob threatens and pushes me up against the wall of the building. The man I’d been nervous about running into tonight, the one whose face I couldn’t remember. Is it him? No, it can’t be.
I should scream. I need to get someone’s attention. Opening my mouth, I let out a high-pitched shriek that’s muffled almost instantly as Rob slams his palm against me. I continue trying to scream against it.
Tears stream down my face. This can’t be happening. I try to talk against his sweaty palm. When Rob realizes that I’m not screaming anymore, he slowly lifts his hand from my mouth.
My apologies come in sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Rob interrupts. “You think it’s okay to get me to buy you drinks, flirt with me all night, only to ditch me? You think you can play those kinds of games and get away with it?” I can see the anger still fresh in his eyes. He wants to hurt me. “You got me all worked up then and now you’re going to make good on it.”
This is the reason I only went to the bar in Willow Creek once. I was afraid of running into someone after I pulled my stupid little stunt. What were the chances? How did he even recognize me after all this time? I was sure he’d been drunk when I approached him. I always picked the ones who’d had plenty to drink. It was easy to tell who they were—slurring and sloppy. It helped give me the upper hand in case they got too handsy and it made me more hazy in their memory.
He seems to see the questioning in my eyes and answers. “As soon as I saw those big blue eyes, I knew it was you. Did you think I was that drunk? I mean, I was pretty wasted, but not enough to forget those eyes.” His finger trails down my cheek. I want to be sick.
Rob stops when he gets to my mouth, his gaze dropping to them as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. My heart races. Despite the blood rushing to my head and throwing my world out of focus, I realize he’s left my arms fairly free.
His mouth crushes mine. He presses his body against me, making it hard to breathe. I need to be smart about my escape. There’s two of them and I’ll only get one chance.
My hands come up and I scratch at Rob’s face. It hardly phases him. He grabs my wrists easily and pins them above my head as he laughs. His other hand grips my face, pulling my head forward before slamming it back against the concrete.
Spots appear in my vision and pain spreads over the back of my skull. Rob digs his fingers in hard as his tongue pushes past my lips and the taste of alcohol assaults me. His thigh shoves between my legs, forcing them open. Fuck, my dress. I’ve made it too easy for him.
He slides his hand down the front of my dress until he gets to the hem. A sickly smile twists over his mouth. “I bet you have a real pretty pussy. Don’t you?”
I let out a guttural sob as his hand disappears under my dress. He lightly brushes his finger over the front of my panties, giving the illusion of gentleness. Then he slips his hand between the fabric and my skin until he’s sliding his fingers over me roughly. I’m going to be sick.
My body trembles under his touch. Rob isn’t fazed by it. His lips continue to move against mine, trying to pull an ounce of reciprocation from me.
I hear the distinct sound of a zipper and my teary eyes fixate on Matt, who’s undoing his pants. This is it. I need the element of surprise. I bite down on Rob’s bottom lip so hard that blood spills into my mouth. The pain of it makes him drop my wrists and pull back just enough.
“Fucking bitch. She bit me.” His hand comes up to his mouth, smearing red over his cheek as he wipes it.
I use all of my force to push away from him and run. My ankle screams at me with every step, but I don’t care.
My hand dives into my satchel, blindly feeling for my keys. When I find them, I try to focus on finding the one for the studio. So close, the doors are within reach.
Slamming into the glass, I fumble to get the key into the hole, but it’s dark and the pain in my head makes it hard to do the simple task. I jab the metal at the lock and miss once, twice, three times. I hear footsteps bearing down on me. Taking a breath, I steady my hand, pushing the key forward once more and sliding it in. Frantically, I turn it and swing open the door before slamming it closed and locking it.
I want to feel safe in the studio, although I don’t know what these men will do to get inside. They come to a stop in front of the door as I slowly back away. Rob smacks his palms against the glass.
“You don’t know what you’re fucking in for. You could have just taken it, paid the price. But now…” His hand slaps the glass again and I jump. Sobs rack my body. “Now, I’m going to destroy you.”
I run down the hallway to the bathroom and lock myself inside, sliding down the door and pulling my phone out of my bag. Finding my recent calls list, I push buttons, needing one of them to answer.
Please pick up. Please pick up. Cole doesn’t answer. Damian doesn’t answer. I send a message in the group chat.
Me: Help!! Attacked. At studio.
Almost instantly, I see Wesley’s name pop up on my phone. Relief floods over me.
“We’re coming. Are you safe?” His voice is strained with anger and fear.
I try to calm myself, but can’t. “I-I don’t know. They’re banging on the door. I’m in the bathroom. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know,” I repeat. My words are tearful and barely intelligible.
“Shhhh,” he soothes. “Stay on the phone with me. We’re almost there. We won’t let anything happen to you.” I hear him breathing hard, as if he’s running. In the background, I hear other voices—angry, worried, determined. “Thea, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest. Can you do that?”
“Mhm.”
Wesley doesn’t speak for a moment and I wonder if he heard me. “Did they hurt you?”
I can’t lie. My head pounds, my wrists ache, and where he touched me, between my legs... I feel numb. “Yes,” I reply in barely a whisper.
I think I must be on speaker because I hear the engine of their car roar at my response.
“We’re coming. They won’t hurt you again.” I can feel the promise in his voice and even though I know there is nothing he can do to protect me right now, the tightness in my chest loosens a little.
I stay on the phone with him. Turning on the sink faucet, I try to drown out the banging and the yelling. I crawl into the corner of the bathroom, tucking my knees into my chest.
“We’re almost there,” Wes keeps saying, yet it feels like eternity. Finally, I hear the words that send a powerful wave of relief through me. “We’re here, Thea.”